Sherlock, Help Me!
by Stormyskies89
Summary: Watson meets a young girl who resembles both Sherlock and Mycroft. Little Holmes Isabelle. Desperate for her older brother's approval she moves in on a case, but in the process meets Moriarty. Can Sherlock save her in time? Or will he lose her?


**Disclaimer: I do not own anything recognizeable! Mycroft, Sherlock and Watson are not mine! They belong soley to Sir Author Conan Doyle! Isabelle is mine.**

**A/N: No flames. Not accepted!**

**Summary: **_"Help Me" were not the words Sherlock Holmes often heard from his little sister's mouth when they were growing up. However after falling for the charming Doctor John Watson and following them on cases, Isabelle Holmes is kidnapped by Professor Moriarty and is recorded on a DVD asking Sherlock to help her. Moriarty has set a series of puzzle Sherlock has to solve in order to save his sister. Will he save her? Or is it up to Isabelle to save herself?_

* * *

"Blasted rain," Doctor John Watson muttered as he stepped out of the taxi, the rain however seemed not to bother his companion, Sherlock Holmes. Holmes had never been one to worry about too much at all, except solving the case at hand. Watson flipped up his collar to protect his neck from the rain. Little good it did him. Until he was suddenly sheltered from the rain. He looked up to find a dark red umbrella over his head. Glancing to his right he found a young girl, about 24 in age standing next to him a smile on her face. Watson felt his heart speed up a bit. She was gorgeous. Sherlock was already inside their flat, and had paused at the end of hallway waiting for Watson to follow.

"Watson? Are you coming or not?" He said, his thick British accent breaking Watson's fascination with the girl who stood by his side. She looked a lot like Sherlock but it may just be his imagination. After all Watson knew little of Holmes's family. Holmes had an older brother, Mycroft, but knew little else. He had no idea if he had a sister or any other brothers. His parents were almost unknown to Watson. So if Sherlock had a sister it was perfectly likely. Sherlock didn't share much. He was more of a reader than a writer for all intents and purposes. Sherlock appeared at the doorway and looked at his companion and at the girl.

"Oh…Isabelle." He said, in those two words, the girl's head swung towards Sherlock, her smile turned into a frown and she sighed heavily, her breath forming a fine mist as she exhaled.

"Sherlock. How nice to see you again, Brother." Watson swore his heart stopped. Brother. Fantastic. He had a crush on his friend's sister! This was tragic. Sherlock smirked glancing at Watson, before going back inside.

"I'll leave you in the…capable hands of my brother then?" She said looking at Watson.

"Yes, thank-you. I'm John Watson." He said offering his hand which she ignored.

"Isabelle Holmes. But you knew that." She said smiling again. He nodded and left her umbrella to brave the three steps til he was inside the flat, where he gave her a small wave before closing the door of 221B Baker Street to the rain.

"It's ok to like her you know." Watson jumped.

"What?" He looked at Sherlock alarmed. The older man was actually watching him for once.

"Isabelle. It's all right to like her. She's a very likeable person. Always had friends." Sherlock said in that annoying monotone he always used.

"Who said I liked her?" Watson asked sitting down in his usual chair.

"You blushed when she called me 'brother'." Holmes pointed out. Watson felt heat creeping into his neck again and was sure his ears had gone red too.

"So? That could be for any reason." Watson said.

Sherlock smirked, "No. It's because you like her. You're afraid, as her older brother, I won't like it." Watson didn't like the tone he used.

"So you'd approve then?" He said.

"Oh certainly not, I never do. But Isabelle doesn't like it when I," Sherlock paused as though he were looking for the right word, "observe her personal life."

"Do you observe her personal life a lot?" Watson asked, casually.

"Heaven's no. Just when it's fun," Sherlock said his voice holding a note of amusement. Watson wasn't sure what to make of his friend then. He had this little sister that John was sure he had a crush on…yet, Sherlock wasn't letting on whether he approved or not.

* * *

Sherlock knew there was another person following them to crime scenes and such. And he knew who it was.

"She can't help herself," he muttered watching from the window of one of the crime scenes to see Isabelle watch for them to depart from across the street.

"Who?" Watson asked.

"Isabelle. She'll never learn that this job isn't for girls." He shook his head but let her continue to follow them. It was only a few weeks later that Sherlock seemed brighter. Watson figured that Isabelle had given up when Sherlock told him she'd stopped following them. How wrong he was.

"Sherlock? We got this…DVD in the mail." Watson held it up for his friend to see. Since the flat had no DVD player to go with the TV, Watson slid it into his laptop. What met them when it loaded made Watson's heart stop and Sherlock's blood run cold.

Isabelle tied to a chair and her mouth taped shut. She rolled her eyes at the person behind the camera, even when she's in a dangerous situation she can find some way to be sarcastic and level-headed. When they appeared, Sherlock started to shake. He grabbed up Watson's laptop and sat in his armchair, Watson hovering behind him. Sherlock was muttering something that sounded a whole lot like _don't you dare hurt her._ As they watched, Moriarty teased them saying what he would do to Isabelle, and her eyes got wider and wider.

"I can stop her Sherlock. Like I threatened to stop your dear friend, John Watson." Moriarty said smiling like a child in a candy store.

"Don't you dare hurt her," Sherlock now said out loud.

"Oh, I know what you're thinking. Don't hurt her don't hurt my sister!" He grinned and ripped the tape, stopping Isabelle from talking, from her mouth. She let out a small cry of pain. Sherlock tensed.

"Go on Belle. Tell him. Tell Sherlock what you want." Moriarty teased, she turned her head to look at Moriarty and spat at him. He glared down at her and wiped the drop off his cheek.

"You've got spunk I'll give you that." He said, He grabbed her chin and forced her to look at the camera, "Tell Sherlock what you want Isabelle, go on."

"Sherlock…" she seemed to choke on the words, until her back arched, when Moriarty pushed the tip of a knife a little harder to her spine, "help me." Sherlock froze in his seat. Isabelle had _never_ ever muttered those words to him when they were kids. So now in a situation of her own doing she was asking for his help.

"See? She can say it." Moriarty teased Sherlock, Watson and Isabelle. Her back arched again.

"Please Sherlock!" She hissed, "I need my big brother." Her eyes pleaded with them through the video. Sherlock shut the laptop. He knew what Moriarty would make him do. The same thing he'd done to him when Watson was kidnapped. Make Sherlock solve a series of puzzles, until he found where Isabelle was being kept.

* * *

"You've got spunk for a kid you know." Moriarty said as he turned off the camera.

"You should have chosen a lesser being then shouldn't you?" Isabelle snarled.

"Oh now, now. I don't want to have to kill you before your brother can watch it happen." Isabelle knew he planned on that. He hoped that by the time he got sick of her, Sherlock would be present to watch _the light go out in your eyes Princess_, as she died. She planned on fighting off the endless abyss of black that would be probably be so inviting to see Sherlock kill Moriarty in front of her. There was one thing she desperately wanted to feel though. John Watson's arms around her. Her one dying wish would be Sherlock though. To hear her brother say he loved her. She knew he did, he just never said it in as many words.

"Seriously How long do you think it will take Sherlock and John to find me?" Isabelle asked, pulling desperately once more at her bonds, only resulting in worsening the burns on her wrists.

"That really depends on how desperately Sherlock wants you to stay alive." Moriarty replied.

"My brother loves me. He'll want to keep me alive for as long as possible."

"You crave his approval don't you? That's why I found you so easily. You wanted to solve the crime before him so he'd approve of your own detective work, but…you made a mistake," He paused watching her reaction, "a mistake, mind you, a sleuth is too clever to make. Meaning you are just a silly little girl." Moriarty smiled softly. Isabelle made a face.

"Do you get off on this? Does it excite you to see the fear in people's eyes before you kill them?" She wondered out loud to him. She knew he was trying to get inside her head and know that Sherlock and Mycroft's approval is exactly what she wanted. Her big brothers had always put her down and made her feel stupid when they were little. But now she was older, popular with the lads and they were lonely men growing older as the years dragged on.

* * *

Isabelle sighed as she waited for her rescue. She imagined it be very heroic the kind of rescues you read in books. But it really wasn't going to happen that way. She knew that much. Sherlock wasn't heroic. Never had been. She was still tied to the chair. She had a servant girl come in and feed her sandwiches of cheese. So why hadn't her brother turned up? She'd have to wait significantly longer than she expected. Much longer.

"Tired of waiting yet?" Moriarty asked as he entered the room. Isabelle didn't bother to look up at him. She knew his eyes would give nothing away they never did. She didn't play his games anymore. They weren't fun anyway.

"Nope. I have faith in my brother. He'll come for me." Isabelle said softly, still not looking at him. Moriarty snorted in disgust, he gripped her chin and lifted her face to look at him.

"Your brother will _never_ find you." He growled in her ear.

"Is that so?" Moriarty turned swiftly. Standing in the doorway was Sherlock and John Watson. Isabelle didn't smile; she didn't have the strength to. She looked at them and the corners of her mouth twitched but no smile. Sherlock walked in towards Moriarty, who had turned and was braced.

"You alright Belle?" He asked.

"Fine, thank-you Sherlock." She whispered, her voice scratchy and dry.

John rushed forward to work on the ropes binding her, "I'm John Watson and I'll be your rescuer today." He whispered bringing a smile to her face. She had imagined that being said.

At this stage both Moriarty and Sherlock had .45 pistols out…facing each other, guns cocked and ready to fire. John supported Isabelle. They watched. Fingers squeezed triggers.

"Wait!" Before they could shoot Isabelle broke the silence, forcing the men to face her. However, Moriarty jumpy with a trigger, his gun went off. The bullet lodging itself in Isabelle's stomach. John felt the impact too. Sherlock's eyes went wide. His sister was hurt. Ignoring the fact that Moriarty hadn't shot him Sherlock merely aimed without looking and fired. Hitting Moriarty in the shoulder. Blinding him with pain. John had lifted Isabelle into a bride's carry and was already halfway to the taxi when Sherlock caught up. Isabelle was losing a lot of blood. Watson was worried, she had the feel of him holding her in his arms.

"Sherlock." Isabelle said, her unseeing eyes searching.

"He's here Belle." John forced Sherlock to grasp her hand.

"Sherlock," She smiled softly, for the first time in his time with Sherlock, John saw _real_ tears form in Sherlock's eyes. He held her hand tightly.

"You're gonna be ok Belle." Sherlock said, "You're gonna be ok." He didn't let go of her hand though like John expected.

* * *

The hospital staff could save her, they didn't ask questions either. There was no need to. When Sherlock and Watson were told they could go in and see her, she had colour back in her face and she was smiling softly.

"Hey guys. Thanks for rescuing me." She said. Watson smiled. She was going to be ok, "come here John give me a hug." He obliged. Isabelle relished the fell of his hug. He stepped back and Isabelle locked eyes with her big brother.

"You ok Belle?" Sherlock asked, his voice thick as tears filled his eyes again.

She nodded, "Yeah, Sherlock. I'm ok."

"You gave me a scare." He said, a smile gracing his face.

"Something I had never done. I scared you." She smiled, "give me a hug," Sherlock stepped forward and wrapped her tightly in his arms. John took a few steps back but he saw it all. Sherlock would deny it later, no doubt about it but he was crying. Sobbing into his sister's shoulder. Sherlock took a long shuddering breath.

"I thought I'd lost you." He whispered.

Isabelle smirked softly, "Mother wouldn't be pleased would she?" Sherlock even smiled a little. Their mother had died when Isabelle was just 9-years-old. Sherlock and Mycroft had been sent to foster homes and Isabelle was stuck in an orphanage. John had heard Isabelle mention a letter she'd received form Sherlock and on her 11th birthday. It had told her that he missed her and that he didn't want to lose her ever. It had been had written in his clumsy 14-year-old handwriting. Mycroft had been then 21 and had applied for custody of his brother and sister. Which he received after a while.

Sherlock and Isabelle grew up quickly with Mycroft. He didn't act like a father to them he acted like their unbelievably arrogant and uncaring older brother. Until child services came to visit. Then they played happy families. Isabelle would be on the floor of the lounge playing or colouring in. Sherlock in his room, doing his homework and Mycroft would be attempting to cook something on the stove. It worked for a while. Until Isabelle was 16. Her brothers then 19 and 26 had ignored her pleas to eat together as a family. And Sherlock had altogether missed dinner on more than one occasion. Now he had one knees propped on the hospital bed hugging the life out of his baby sister, who he's almost lost back then and today. Something John had never really thought a lot about. Now it was quite clear that 'help me' were the two words that Sherlock had longed to hear out of his sister. He just wanted her to be a kid again. She'd never be that little girl in pigtails again, Sherlock had to understand that. John watched as the two siblings began laughing. They didn't have to play now. They were happy.

"I don't need Sherlock Holmes right now," Isabelle giggled, "I just need Sherlock." She didn't want the detective; she just wanted her big brother. Her hero.


End file.
